Pursuing luxury.

When I was younger, I looked to luxurious things as a milestone. The big house. The fancy car. The designer suits. The pricey meals. These were all things that you would have once you “made it”.

I never knew what “it” was. I just knew that “it” was the goal. And “it” was definitely not where I was. There was no luxury in a basement apartment in central Ontario in the late 90’s.

So I aspired. I aspired to own a big house. I aspired to own a fast car. I aspired to wear sharp suits and eat fancy dinners.

But as the years marched on, as the aspirations became more obtainable, I cared about them less.

I didn’t need a house; I was happy renting a condo. I didn’t even drive; I was happy riding a bike. I avoided suits like the plague; I was comfortable in jeans and a shirt. And if I wanted a fancy meal, I’d go for all-you-can-eat sushi.

I never would’ve thought of those things as “luxurious” before. But, now that I think about it, I know that they are luxurious.

Condos and bikes are great when they’re a lifestyle choice. I have them because I make enough money to live in downtown Toronto.

I don’t need to wear suits because I’m lucky enough to have a remote job that doesn’t need them.

And all-you-can-eat sushi may not seem glamorous, but it isn’t cheap, either. Just being able to afford that is a testament to a certain level of privilege.

So while I may not have the big house, or the fast car, or the sharp suit, or the fancy dinners, I still have my luxury.